


Old Wounds

by intricate_glass_box



Series: Lex and the Actor [4]
Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fear, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Other, Pain, not actually blood. the goop.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intricate_glass_box/pseuds/intricate_glass_box
Summary: The wounds the Actor had sustained by his own hand had never healed, not fully. Normally, they existed as relatively unobtrusive scars, but a flare-up could leave him delirious with pain. For the first time, though, he doesn't have to go through it alone.
Relationships: Actor Mark/Original Character
Series: Lex and the Actor [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855654
Kudos: 6





	Old Wounds

Lex hadn’t seen the Actor in long enough that they were getting worried. He would often spend a relatively long time writing (typically in his study), but he’d always let Lex know ahead of time. They figured it was possible that inspiration had struck while they were apart, but couldn’t shake a nagging concern, and so walked up to his study to check for him.

The room was empty and dark, and a lack of half-drunk mugs of coffee or ink-wet papers on the desk suggested it hadn’t been recently used. 

Lex’s concern grew. It was probably nothing; there were plenty of other places Mark liked to spend time, but they knew they wouldn’t be able to relax until they knew where he was. They’d rather mount an unnecessary search than let something bad happen to Mark. 

They decided to check the bedroom next — if he wasn’t feeling well, especially mental health wise, he’d been known to go back to bed. 

Nudging open the bedroom door, they called softly: “Mark?”

“Lex?” came the reply, sounding weak and strained. 

Lex rushed into the room, finding the Actor half-crumpled on his side on the floor between the bathroom door and the bed. The grimace on his face told of terrible pain; he still wasn’t dressed, instead in the robe he favored, but it was caked with something wet and alarmingly thick-looking. Lex assumed it must be blood, and gasped, tears springing to their eyes. The Actor had tears on his own face… but they were thick, viscous — not blood, Lex didn’t think. Too dark in color for that, and it made them doubt whatever was on his robe. A sick sort of horror rose in their stomach. Lex fell beside him, afraid to touch for fear of making things worse. “Mark, what’s wrong? Please, please, what can I do?” _What did you do?_ they wanted to ask.

“It hurts, Lex,” he whined, cringing like even speaking made it worse. “Make it stop.” 

They didn’t think he could see through the not-tears. “I-I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong, my love, please tell me what happened,” Lex said, crying. They touched the _whatever it was_ seeping through the Actor’s robe onto the floor. It was thicker than honey, but not as sticky. Some clung to their hand, but most dripped away from it, congealing back together. “Mark,” Lex whispered.

“It hurts, it’s— everything hurts. It told me it would go away, it told me it wouldn’t hurt anymore. It made me— It—”

Mark seemed delirious, and tried to crawl towards them, so Lex moved and held him just so he wouldn’t hurt himself any more. “No, Mark, please stay still. I… I’m gonna help you, darling, I-I—” they broke off, fighting breaking down. They leaned forward, pressing their face into Mark’s hair — the only part of him seemingly not oozing — and whispered. “Please, dearest. Please, please, just stay still. I’m gonna get something to clean you up.” They stood, running to the bathroom and grabbing a towel. They soaked it in the sink, intending to use it to mop up the ooze, and threw it over one shoulder so they could raid the medicine cabinet. Gauze and bandages, in all the shapes and sizes they owned. Lex ran back to Mark, who had thankfully stayed where he was… sobbing on the floor, curled onto his side. 

“My love, I’m back. Mark, I’m here, you’re going to be okay.” Lex knew they shouldn’t say that when they didn’t even know what the hell was going on, but they refused to entertain an alternative. 

They couldn’t see what was going on while he was in this position. Lex reached for a pillow from the bed that they set behind him before pressing his shoulders gently but firmly enough that he rolled back on it. Lex flinched as Mark moaned in pain again. “I’m so sorry,” they choked out, but continued. They reached for the tie on his robe, pulling it open as gently as they could before gasping and leaning back in horror. They’d seen the Actor’s scars before — a terrifying number, all over his chest and abdomen — but always as _scars._ Never like this, angry red around the edges and weeping this _substance_ that was too insidious to be blood.

“They never heal,” Mark whimpered, just barely aware of what was going on. “They never go away. It told me they would, told me if I just—… I don’t understand… It’s not fair… God, it hurts, Lex, please help me.” 

It clicked and Lex was horrified. Mark rarely spoke about that night to them. He’d never even directly told them what all his scars were from, let alone gone into detail about the entity he’d struck a deal with or how the deal had been struck. Lex had guessed at a lot, but they’d never considered that it didn’t make sense for him to have the wounds of his suicides since he’d stolen Damien’s body. 

“Mark,” Lex choked out, rendered unable to move for just a second. But they shook it off. The past didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was helping Mark. They grabbed the end of the towel they’d wet, and applying as little pressure as possible, wiped away some of the gunk. Mark wheezed in pain again, and Lex had to steel themself to keep going. They focused on the area between the wounds, and realized not all of them were open. Most, though. They weren’t gaping open, just… oozing. It didn’t look like any injury Lex had ever seen before, and they had a feeling typical medical intervention wouldn’t help… if they could’ve gotten Mark to go to a hospital, anyway, which they knew they couldn’t. 

“Mark, what do you do when this happens?” Lex asked, praying he’d have something to tell them. 

“Wait for it to stop,” he managed, strained and hopeless. 

Well, Lex wasn’t going to sit there and do nothing. They had to try something, so they kept working. They swallowed hard, and spoke: “I’ll be right here with you, Mark. I’m going to help as best as I can, okay? Let me know if… let me know if I’m making it worse,” they said, growing hoarse at the end. It seemed that the ooze (while it hadn’t stopped) was accumulating less quickly than they were wiping it away, so when an area was clean enough, they gently placed gauze over top the wound. No bandages, though — it didn’t seem like Mark was going to move, anyway, and they thought it would only hurt him if they tried to affix anything to the angry skin.

Mark didn’t answer them. He was still clearly out of it. Lex looked up at his face repeatedly as they worked, trying to make sure they weren’t hurting him any more than he already was. 

By the time they’d finished cleaning him up, the first sections of gauze were saturated again, but the tears on Mark’s face seemed to be actual tears, now, not the abhorrent ooze. Lex desperately hoped that was a good sign. They couldn’t bring themself to try and change the gauze out — they knew it probably wouldn’t help and just couldn’t do something that might hurt him again. Very carefully, they leaned forward, pressing their forehead to his. “You’re… mostly cleaned up, Mark, I… I don’t know what else to do,” they whimpered. 

He looked at them miserably. It was astonishing to Lex how reassuring his _crying_ could be — they hated to see it, but at least it was clear. At least it was a normal bodily fluid. They could see his eyes. 

The Actor fumbled for their hand, and once Lex realized what he was doing, they grabbed his, clasping it tightly. “Please,” he whispered. 

“I’m right here. I’m staying right here with you. You’re gonna be okay.” They used their free hand to push everything they’d brought out of the way so that they could settle down beside Mark. The floor was still a mess, but they didn’t care. Lex laid as close to the Actor as they could, though was still too afraid of hurting him to really hold him. They settled for holding his hand, or his whole arm really, with both of theirs. 

After several long minutes, it seemed like the so-called bleeding had stopped, given that only the first half of the gauze had darkened significantly. And several minutes after that, the Actor stopped crying. 

Noticing he was coming back to himself, Lex spoke up in a shaky voice. “How about I go get you some water? You…lost a lot of fluid, I don’t… I don’t know, but, it can’t hurt,” they proposed. 

“No, don’t leave,” he pleaded, and how could Lex say no to that?

“…I won’t, Mark. Don’t worry, I’ll stay right here.” 

He nodded, and closed his eyes. “Exhausted,” he sighed. 

“Go to sleep if you need. I’ll be right here. You don’t need to worry. Just do what you need to feel better, Mark,” Lex promised. They kissed his hand where they held onto it. They weren’t at all surprised — after all that, of course he’d be ready to pass out. 

And with Lex’s reassurances, it wasn’t long at all before Mark fell asleep. They kept careful watch — of his face, of his breathing, of his wounds… they had no intent to sleep, but a time spent watching silently laying beside him was enough to knock them out, too, despite their worries. 

———

The Actor came to some time later. The pain from the flare-up had receded… still above the normal level, which was never quite _comfortable_ anyway, but he could handle it, now. His memories of the event itself were hazy from the sheer distress he’d been in, but he knew Lex was there. Given that he’d had to deal with each of those episodes alone before… he was truly touched they’d come to find him, not to mention tried to help and stayed with him so loyally. He sat up, biting back a hiss of pain. Once settled, he called their name softly. 

“Mark??” Lex said, slurred with sleep, but rapidly waking themself up in case something was wrong again. They sat up beside him.

Mark frowned, concerned. They were pretty covered in his… goop. 

“What is it, Mark?” Lex asked, searching his face. 

He leaned forward, pulling them close in a hug. They carefully put their arms around his back, adding no more pressure than he was applying. 

“Thank you,” he said, and though it was more into their shoulder they heard him.

“Are you… okay now…?” Lex asked, fighting tears again already. 

The Actor didn’t let them go. He was upset that he’d scared them, and embarrassed by his conduct. He should do better, as the hero. But on the other hand, no matter how much he hated that he needed it, he was so damn thankful they’d been there for him. “I’m okay now,” he said. 

Lex pulled back and raised their hands very gently to his chest — not quite touching — where some of the gauze had fallen away as he’d sat up. The wounds still looked angry, but were no longer _oozing_. “Mark… what _was_ that?” 

The Actor felt like he owed them at least an explanation after all that, but he avoided eye contact. He’d never had to talk about this before, and he didn’t want to go into the details he’d kept from them this long, so all he said was: “Sometimes they flare-up like that.”

Lex wiped at their eyes. They felt like they shouldn’t be crying about _his_ pain, anyway. “I’m so sorry, Mark,” they whispered. 

“You… did everything you could,” Mark started. “It’s… I’ve really just got to wait it out. Nothing helps.” Not crying, screaming, or praying. Not killing himself again. Not even getting a new body, as he’d learned the hard way. 

Lex tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sound. They’d been so scared, seeing him like that. Everything he’d been through, and he still had to suffer this? 

Mark, seeing their mounting distress, pulled them back into a hug. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured. 

“No, Mark, it’s not your fault! I… god, Mark…” Lex clung to him. They were desperate to feel assured he was okay but they knew that he wasn’t, fundamentally. 

They were both quiet, holding each other in the goop on the floor. There were so many things they could say, or even should say, but neither could put it into words. Both felt it would be better to go clean up, and maybe reconvene on the bed — Mark still needed rest, Lex thought, and Lex needed space to calm down, Mark thought — and just call it an early night. But neither found the words to ask the other to move with them for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Awful hard for the Actor to keep that unquestioned belief that all the bad things that happened to him were Celine’s, William’s, anyone else’s fault and that the aforementioned got only what they deserved when the manor entity, the one who convinced him of that, clearly blatantly lied to him on other topics and clearly never cared about him since it told him it was okay to keep killing himself like he needed to do to develop and complete the plan given that, once he killed the others and got a new body for himself, he’d be free of the constant pain, when in reality it carried with him, a very tangible piece of evidence that maybe the things he did at the entity’s urging were bad, actually. 
> 
> …my writing is better than that clusterfuck of a paragraph, I’d like to think, so I’ll just hide this here in the _end_ notes. 
> 
> What do y’all call the goop? Calling it goop is, uh, too frivolous for what it is.


End file.
